Pirate's Promise (Sentinels of Savannah #5) - Lisa Kessler Page 0,44

country club in Savannah that Aura had brought along.

She stood beside him, in her khakis and pastel polo with the same insignia as his cap. She seemed a million miles away. Her expression was impossible to read. Maybe this was her usual concentration before an undercover mission? He didn’t know.

“Everything all right, Aura?”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m Amber now. We can’t slip. Things can get dangerous, fast.”

He looked her way, wishing he could hear the thoughts running through her mind. “This sword is going to be a great addition to our collection, Amb.” He was careful to infuse just the right touch of southern drawl to his voice.

Her lips curved ever so slightly. She’d noticed his effort. But beyond that, there was no reassurance from her. None of the intimacy he’d enjoyed earlier, when she’d confided in him about her feelings, or her ex-partner, the demon. It was making him nervous, and he didn’t fucking tolerate nervousness.

He stared ahead. The Glasgow harbor loomed before them, unrecognizable since the last time he’d been here. Lifetimes ago. The roads were paved now, and massive artistic sculptures lined the port, along with warehouses and industrial cranes.

He shook his head slowly. “Nothing like I remember.”

She looked his way. “You’re thirty-two, and we’ve never been to Scotland.”

“I know,” he snapped. This was going to be tougher than he’d realized. He rubbed the back of his neck.

A hand clasped his shoulder. “I thought we had a landlubber stowaway on board.”

“A what?” Aura asked.

Captain Flynn gave her a condescending smirk. “Someone who keeps his feet on the land. The opposite of a pirate, lass.” He focused on Greyson, his gaze moving from his feet to the top of his head. He chuckled. “Welcome home, Greyson.” He turned to face the harbor, and his grip on Greyson’s shoulder tightened. “Do you think they’ll remember you?”

He wasn’t even a footnote in history, and Flynn fucking knew it. He was dicking around with him, and he was in no mood. Greyson knocked his hand off. “No.”

“They remember your grandfather.”

Greyson glared at the captain. “How would you know?”

He chuckled. “Unlike a few on our crew, I know how to use Google. They found his sunken ship recently, and some of his lost treasure. Captain William Kidd is still their most notorious Scottish pirate.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Greyson clenched his jaw, trying to repress the memories of the rope digging into his neck. He still remembered the boos and hisses from the townspeople yelling that nothing good had ever come from the Kidd family. “I’m only here to retrieve the Tyrfing.”

The captain’s gaze flicked to Aura and back to Greyson. “Is that the only reason?”

“Aye,” Greyson growled with anger in his eyes.

The captain focused on Aura. “I suppose you’ll be leaving us soon.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yeah, once we dock in the U.S., I’ll be taking the relic back to the vault at Department 13.”

Greyson had known that had been the plan since the beginning, but hearing her confirm it so quickly…hurt. He hadn’t realized he’d been expecting her to change her plans. This wasn’t a real relationship. He had no right to expectations.

Somewhere along the way, he’d apparently grown hopeful, hungry for more of her time. Having her in his life had been at times frustrating and, at others, the best thing he’d ever known. Images of firing the cannons with her filled his head—target practice, sitting in the crow’s nest. He’d never shared a kinship or a passion like that with anyone, not even his crew.

He was not ready for her to walk out of his life.

But now wasn’t the time to broach the subject. He had a job to do.

The captain looked between them, nodding with knowing eyes. The bastard knew exactly what he’d done. He’d drawn a line in the sand and dared either of them to cross it, leaving them both on opposite sides. She would go back to Washington, D.C., and Greyson would stay with his crew in Savannah.

Their time together was nearing its end.

“Good luck on the mission.” Flynn turned and walked away.

Greyson ground his teeth, wishing he could punch something. Aura remained stoic beside him, all her attention on the port ahead. He needed a distraction.

Leaving her at the railing, he headed over to the capstan to help Drake and Caleb drop the anchor.

Centuries ago, on the original Sea Dog, they’d have up to twenty men on the turnstile, but this new replica of the sunken ship had a motor to assist them with